#the ask came across as being accusatory to me and I literally just woke up

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Why do u watermark the memes u don't even make most of these what is ur major malfuncion

I've been watermarking them since I started this blog because I got tired of people on the tsbs discord doing things with my stuff, without any form of credit being given

No, I don't make the original jokes/memes. I never claimed that I did. I find them online, then I sort of reformat them (for lack of a better word) to look like tweets that these characters have made, because the idea of these characters saying/tweeting some of the stuff is funny to me

That's literally all it is, and I feel like I shouldn't have to defend or explain myself. I don't get why me watermarking my memes is such a big deal to you

[collecting-stories]

Banana Pancakes - Finch Cortes

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago but I’ve adapted it to fit Finch because why not recycle???? With Iain Young in mind cause he’s such a 😍 

A Newsies AU

///

"Wake up," Finch’s voice was more raspy than normal, due to the somewhat early hour of the morning, but that didn't stop him. He'd convinced you to come over the night before for movies and a game of who-can-eat-the-most-pizza. 

You'd fallen asleep on the couch, like you did every single time you overdosed on pizza and coke. And, like every single other time, Finch had moved you to the spare bedroom. After the first time you slept over and woke up with a crick in your neck you swore you were never going to fall asleep on the couch again. Except old habits die hard and you always fell asleep halfway through the last movie, with a slice of pizza on a plate on your lap.

Finch knew the routine like clockwork.

"Come on…wake up," Finch leaned down, taking your lax arms and wrapping them around his shoulders while he wrapped his arms around your torso, hugging you. He gave the slightest squeeze and felt your arms start to move, pulling away a little.

"Get off," you mumbled, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

Finch didn't reply. He just squeezed you tighter, burying his head in your neck and climbing up on the bed to straddle you. This was routine too. It was how he always woke you up when you stayed over.

The first time he'd done it butterflies had exploded in her stomach. Actually, you still did. Only the first time you were naive enough to assume that when he hugged you like this it meant more than it did. Finch, you reasoned after the fifth time, was just a physical person. That was the whole of it.

"Get off me Finch!" You pulled your arms in, pressing your hands against his chest and pushing. He had (unfortunately) decided to get fully dressed before he woke you up.

"Never!" He laughed, making his legs go lack so he could fall on top of you, completely squishing you between his body and the bed. You laughed as Finch rolled over the wrong way, causing them both to fall to the floor, dragging the blankets with them.

"Finch!" You finally got away from him, scrambling to you feet and making it to the door, grabbing the wall like it was base.  

"Breakfast is ready," Finch commented, still lying on the pile of blankets.

You ran to the kitchen. You could hear him getting up from the floor and chasing after you. You ran down the hall and down the stairs into the living room, trying to make it to the kitchen before him. Finch went the other way, climbing on the couch and using it as a platform, jumping on you and tackling you to the ground.

"No!" You whined, trying to get out from under him, "I'm getting breakfast before you!"

Breakfast was a routine of yours too. Banana Pancakes. Every time you slept over Finch made banana pancakes with cinnamon and nutmeg. Sometimes he added chocolate chips but that was only on special occasions when he wanted something.

"No!" Finch laughed, wrestling with you.

"Finch!" You repeated, kneeing him lightly in the stomach.

Finch, who enjoyed being overdramatic, rolled onto off of you, holding his stomach and moaning like he'd been shot. You rolled your eyes and got up, taking off for the kitchen again. You made it in, taking a seat at the table.

Usually Finch just left a plate of pancakes next to the stove and left the turkey bacon in the pan. Today was out of the ordinary. The table was set for two, the coffee pot sitting on the electric heater in the middle, waiting to be poured. Next to it was a plate of bacon and a plate of Banana Pancakes. Finch had even made the syrup that you loved.

You approached the table cautiously, taking your fork and stabbing the first pancake on the stack. After inspecting the bottom you noticed the chocolate chips littering the cake. Finch came in behind you, taking a seat at the table as if this part of the day was as ordinary as all the other parts.

Except it wasn't. You knew it wasn't.

"What did you do?" you put your fork down and crossed your arms under your chest, eyeing Finch suspiciously.

"Wow Finch, this is all so nice, you're such a good best friend, what would I do without you…" Finch mumbled.

"Thank you Patrick," you rolled your eyes, "now what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Finch retorted.

"Really? The last time you went to this much trouble you accidentally let my cat out when you were supposed to be sitting him for me," You said.

"He wanted to get out, besides he was mean to me," Finch pouted.

"Well you either did something or…" you paused as realization dawned on you, "what do you want?"

"Nothing but your love," Finch grinned.

You let out an amused laugh but dropped the subject, sitting down to eat. Finch's banana pancakes were your absolute favorite.

You and Finch had been friends for a fairly long time. You’d always thought he was cute but never thought of him as anything but a good friend. Until a little while ago. You didn't really know when it was, you just knew that he went from looking like an adorable kid to looking like a sex god in the blink of an eye. Not that you were complaining.

You tried to ignore that as you ate though. Finch was somewhat concentrated on his food, looking up at you every once in a while to make a face. You suspected that the rest of the day would go as planned, though with the change of events at breakfast you couldn't be sure.

Anyone else would say that you were ridiculous for reading that much into a simple morning meal. But you knew how you and Finch worked. Movie night and the morning after was always the exact same thing. It was like going to school and always having an assigned seat. To suddenly go in one day and have the teacher let them sit anywhere was somewhat life altering. If that didn't sound too overdramatic.

"I'm going to get a shower," you announced, pushing your plate a little away from your body.

That was the next step in your day after movie night. After breakfast (which had been unusually quiet this time) was showering. You always showered first because you always finished eating first. Finch would make some perverted joke about showering with you, which he would then reiterate when he went to take his own shower.

Finch hopped right up after you from the table, "Wait!"

"What?"

You waited for Finch to say something but instead he just stood there, rubbing the back of his neck. He had been preparing for this moment since he called her last night and asked her to head over for movie night. He got all the best romantic movies as some sort of foreshadowing/mood-setting for the morning after. Now it was the morning after and he'd done everything according to his plan until now. He couldn't think of a single word to say to you.  

All the great speeches he'd rehearsed yesterday had been washed out of his brain. Now he was just standing there staring at you, waiting for all the words to come back, and probably freaking you out.

"Uh…I…I uh, well," Finch took a deep breath, trying to form an actual word.

"So you do want something?" You laughed, "See I told you! I knew it! I knew you wanted something!"

You moved around the table toward him and Finch moved back. The situation was slowly diffusing as you joked with him. You poked him in the chest with each accusatory sentence. Finch laughed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him and spinning you around so your back was flat against his chest.

"Gotcha," he whispered in your ear.

"That's what you think," you smiled (Finch loved your smile) and reached with your free hand, tickling his sides.

Finch lurched forward a bit and then backed away from you, letting go of your hand as you tickled him. Once you were free you ran out of the kitchen and down the hall. You ran back into the bedroom, running around the side of it and crawling underneath. You could hear Finch's footsteps in the hall. He walked slowly like he didn't know where you were and you tried not to laugh when he entered the bedroom.

He walked along the foot of the bed, crouching down to see your legs. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you out from under the bed as you laughed hysterically. The minute you were uncovered he fell, straddling you as he landed with his knees on either side of you.

"Gotcha again," he grabbed your wrists when you reached forward, pinning you down so you couldn't tickle him again.

You smiled at him. Finch was leaning closer to you now, his face inches from yours as he held yourr arms above you. There was that famous grin on his face, his dimples just hinting at existence. You could see all the green of his eyes and all the little blemishes on his face. You wanted to speak, wanted to have some sort of a remarkably clever comeback. But Finch was so close that you literally felt dizzy.

You didn't have to worry though because he didn't let you speak. As close as he was, you were to him. Finch felt completely overwhelmed. He was entirely too aware of the cliched nature of his move but he didn't care. He had to get his point across and another moment like this wouldn't come.

So he leaned down and kissed you. He didn't really know how long he was supposed to kiss you or if he was supposed to move his lips around. When the perfect time to spring back and pretend that it was an honest mistake so you wouldn't slap him was. He just knew that he wanted to kiss you and now his slightly chapped lips were covering your moist ones (you probably felt gross and there was the tiny sting of a cut he'd gotten on his lip that made him want to whimper in pain but he held it in; he was kissing you after all).

But things like that have to end because people have to breathe. Sometimes. Maybe. He wasn't sure that was a scientifically good enough reason. Maybe he could conduct a study, if you didn't want to get up and run out of the house and never have movie night again. But you was still there, under him, staring up with eyes the size of doll-house saucers.

He kept thinking movie night would be more fun. There would be no more sleeping in the guest room. Or showering separately (maybe he was rushing things). You could skip the boring monologue parts of movies and just make out. That would be fun. You could have banana pancakes in bed…except maybe without the syrup because he really hated washing his sheets (they were so big and bulky and)…you were talking. What were you saying?

"What?" Finch asked, sounding somewhere between confused and high.

You sucked in another breath. He wanted you to repeat yourself? He'd totally just blanked out? You finally told him you loved him as he finished kissing you and he chose that moment to go off in his head. You wanted to roll your eyes, that was so like Finch. Always missing the important parts.

"So…" you tried to start again but the words wouldn't come out. So you settled for being dumb, "was that what you wanted?"

"Yeah," he blushed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and rub the back of his neck. He climbed off you, helping you up to your feet because he figured pinning you to the ground wasn't a great way to start a relationship.

"Definitely better than banana pancakes," you bit your lip. You wouldn't tell him. Not today. Maybe tomorrow or the next day or next week or some month later on down the line. You'd pluck up the courage again and tell him that you loved him but right now it wasn't so important.

"Even with chocolate chips?" And there it was, the smug grin crept back into place and the shyness from a moment ago disappeared. He felt like on of those American football players when they make a touchdown. He wanted to victory dance all over his flat and possibly shout to the whole world that you liked him.

"Well, I mean…" you grinned just as smugly, "they are chocolate chips."

And just like that they were off again. You tearing through the flat as Finch chased you, threatening things that made you want to get caught (like kissing you to death). You were sort of amazed that even though everything had completely changed, you were no longer 'just friends', everything still felt sort of the same.

Except this time, as Finch caught you from behind and pulled you close, he planted a kiss at the corner of your mouth and you swore you heard the faintest of 'I love you's' before you squirmed free.

Maybe you'd tell him tonight.

-

So yeah, obviously AU

Very literally inspired by this pic from Iain’s insta. 

[randomnessbyrach-blog]

I have been wanting to just dump all of my thoughts while working through my tranisiton for so long. I have just wanted someone to sit and listen over and over while I spill it all out over and over. For me, getting it all out helps me heal. In 2009 I met a man. I was not ready to commit. It took me 3 times to commit, even after breaking it off via a text message. Perhaps my gut was telling me something way back then and maybe I should have listened or maybe I made the choices I made because that was the path I was suppose to take. In June of 2010 is when I committed to him. Later that summer he moved in and joined my family with myself and my two children. Life seemed pretty good. I loved him. In June of 2012 we married. Both second marriages for us. Again life seemed pretty good. I loved him. Though in hindsight I was always longing for his attention and affection. He worked a lot and likely still does. He poured himself into video games a lot. I got shunned at times when I would try to be playful, whimisical and physical. All of that hurt but I just kept trying, thinking one day he would see how important I was to him. I loved him. Don’t get me wrong, he would show me in ways and at times, but the longing for more was always there. He would, at times, connect with the kids but it was almost always surface connection and most of that was early on in the relationship. He says that I kept him from developing stronger relationships with the kids and in ways he is right. I was protecting them and that is not an excuse it just is what it is and was what it was. I have these tendencies - good, bad or indifferent - where I try to see the good in people and where I think positive reenforcement is more helpful than just being an asshole and to most he came across as an asshole. I loved him. I believe in so many ways that we helped one another grow in areas. I was timid and fearful and didn’t have the best backbone, I believe he helped me grow in those areas in some ways. He was just starting his life over in a sense and I helped him grow to be successful and I supported him and I was patient and kind most days, at least on days where I didn’t feel completely ignored. With success comes money and with money comes things. I think “things” were what he thought would make him happy the most. I would like to think I helped him to learn to be more accepting and loving of people, but saddly I don’t think much of that rubbed off on him except as our relationship kept moving forward I would see it in him with me behind closed doors at times. I loved him. No relationship is perfect and no relationship will ever be perfect. They are hard work and the longstanding relationships of our grandparents have lasted due to hard work, love and understanding. So the day he left is the day I started to reflect. He left the house after saying he wasn’t in love with me any more and that he thought we should seperate and maybe date one another. If you can imagine my emotional shock to just the words then you may understand the craziness I felt. I knew something was up though. See things started to get weird in February. It was Valentines day. I got home from work and Halee was there recouperating from her surgery and my mom was there watching the babies. It was around 5:15 and he wasn’t home so I texted him. It took him a bit to text back and he said he would be home soon. I assumed he had to work late. He got home and I asked if he had to work late, not being accusatory just asking. He said no, that he had been with Girl M and Girl J at Bar Louie because they were both sad it was Valentines day. And this is where I start to feel unimportant and I don’t hide my feelings well. He said I should be proud of him for making sure they were okay and that Girl J was too drunk to drive home so he and Girl M had to get her and her car home and also pick her children up from school or something. He did bring me a bouquet from meijers. I am quite selfish sometimes, so selfish me thinks well what about me? I am your wife - Do you care that your actions made me sad on valentines day? Are you kidding me right now? I am not a huge valentines day person anyway, but damn...how would he have felt if I did the same thing to him? Not cool. Anyway, we make up and that Friday he comes home with literally $100 worth of longstem roses for me and he takes me to dinner. I do ask if sometimes when he goes for drinks after work if I can be invited as well because a) I would love to relax after a long day and b) I would enjoy time with him and his friends as well. I never got invited and this happened more than I know. Fast forward a week or two and it was a Friday. We would generally text a few times a day. Well he never texted that day. I got home and he wasn’t there. Still no text, didn’t answer my call. He got home around 9:30p and I asked where he was. He stated he was with Girl M and Girl J watching movies and eating pizza at Girl J’s house and that he didn’t want to have to answer to me so that is why he never answered my text or call. I also know he left work around 1:30 that day and so did at least one of the girls if not both. He also was dressed strange. He had these leggings on under his jeans when he got undressed. I just found that totally weird. Like did he wear them so he could be all comfy watching movies? WTF? lol Any way we fought that night. I let him fricking have it because that was the most disrespectful thing to do. Not answer me? Not want to have to answer to me. We vowed that night to not purposefully hurt each other like that ever and I believed him. I sobbed in his arms that night and he consoled me (asshole). I again asked to be invited sometimes. Again not invited. So needless to say things weren’t smooth as silk between us but I thought we were trying until he did it again. Didn’t come home from work, met his girls for drinks or so he said. Again I asked to be invited. Somehwere during all of this he said he didn’t want to invite me as he felt he had to protect these girls from me. Like I am some sort of psychotic monster. LOL So one day right before he ended it he texted me and said if you want to meet me for a drink I am the Office (a bar close to home). We had a) never gone there before and b) he was strange when I got there. Not his normal self and he was in a t’shirt and basketball shorts (without underwear just free balling it). That weekend we had a couple over to play cards. We made love that day. The next morning when I woke up he was not himself. I asked what was wrong and that was the day he left our relationship to my face although I think he had left long before. He stayed away, staying Girl J’s I believe. Then he wanted to stay in the basement of our house. I agreed but said he could not disrepect our marriage by staying overnight at another womans house as we were seperated but hadn’t talked about divorce at this point. Well 5 or 6 nights went by and he broke that agreement. Came back to the house the next night and I emotionally just couldn’t take it any more. So I cried and asked what it is he wants and he said he just doesn’t think we will work. So I said fine, I will file for divorce tomorrow now get the fuck out.....story to be continued.

[imadeangirl-butimsamcurious]

Two Shirts

Title: Two Shirts – Warmth Series Part 2

Characters/Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 1600

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Summary: Tomorrow came, as it inevitably does, and now the reader has to think about her relationship with Dean. But what will happen if they have to share more than a bed?

Author’s Note: Okay guys, here’s part two of the Warmth Series! I can’t thank you all enough for the amazing response the first part of this got and I hope you guys enjoy this just as much! There will be either one or two more parts of this series, depending on how many words it takes me to write what’s left of the story. If you want to be tagged in the next few parts of the please add yourself to This List or send me an Ask. Feedback is appreciated, and enjoy!

P.S. I’m going to stop using the Pond Taglist soon so if you’re on there and want to keep getting tagged in my fics please add yourself to my tag list. Thanks!

Two Beds - Warmth Series Part One

If you would like to read any of my other fics please check out my Masterlist!

*Gif is not mine, all gifs used on my blog are from Google Images.*

     It was tomorrow.

     When you’d opened your eyes this morning you became acutely aware of the unfamiliar weight still around your middle, Dean’s muscled arm caging you in in a way that - despite your best efforts - wasn’t unwelcome, but you knew had to be stopped as soon as possible.

     Getting involved with a hunter was dangerous and only ever ended one way: badly. He’d die and leave you alone, or you’d die and leave him, and no matter what happened someone was getting hurt – whether fatally or not. You couldn’t risk emotional attachment or compromise your ability to think rationally – which would most certainly happen if you had a relationship clouding your judgment.

     Mercifully Dean woke up and rolled over at that point, stretching his arms and yawning. Then he flung a pillow at Sam to wake him up.

     And now here you were, sitting in the back seat of the impala and heading back to the room with the beds - the two beds – ready to do it all over again. You promised yourself tonight you would be stronger, promised tonight you would keep your distance and stay away from the man on the other side of the bed, from the man you loved despite your best efforts not to. But you knew the truth. If he pulled you close, if he offered his warmth, your fortitude would crumble and you wouldn’t reject him.

     You never could.

     “Soups on!”

     You and the Winchesters filed into your tiny motel room, the outer layers of fed suits hitting the beds in quick succession and questionable diner food being passed around in grease-soaked cardboard. You took your supper from the room’s wobbly two-person table in favor of the bed, settling against the pillows and putting your dinner on the nightstand, along with a giant soda you never asked for. Dean never did listen when you tried to grasp at some semblance of a healthy meal.

     The three of you ate in an almost-silence, the loudest noises in the room being chewing and the sloshing of over-sized soft drinks. Once the boys had finished inhaling their food, leaving you with still over half of yours left, business as usual kicked back in and you all dove into the case that so far had yielded few results. You’d all spent the day doing the usual: going to the morgue, talking to friends and relatives of the victim, flashing your fake badges to get whatever you deemed necessary for the case. But so far? Nothing. You had no leads, nobody with motive, and a heartless corpse cooling on a metal shelf.

     You were all understandably irritable, so leave it to your clumsy fingers to lighten unavenged-murder-mood.

     You reached for your massive drink, thumb and middle fingers barely even touching, then lost your grip on the smooth paper cup and watched as it and all its contents dropped directly into your still-open duffle bag.

     Dean laughed so hard he practically fell off his chair.

     You scrambled to grab the drink before it emptied itself entirely onto your clothes, but you were too late. Everything was already sticky and soaked, smelling of Root Beer and tinted brown.

     Dean was still laughing on the other side of the room. You balled up a pop-soaked shirt and threw it at his head.

     “Keep laughing, Winchester. Your bag is next!”

     Dean clamped his mouth shut and raised his hands in defense, the dripping t-shirt hanging limply from his fingers. “I’m sorry, YN. But you gotta admit,” he motioned to the bag, “it was pretty funny.”

     You glanced up at the person responsible for you even having that drink in the first place and smiled despite yourself, a breathy laugh escaping your lips. “Shut up.”

     You looked down at your bag and frowned. Everything was covered in sugary soda, there was no way this crappy little motel had any laundry facilities so you’d have to wash everything in the bathroom sink, and even if you started now nothing would be dry by the time you went to bed. You would likely have to try and sleep in what you were currently wearing – which was a dress shirt and pencil skirt from your phony fed suit. You sighed and flopped down on the mattress.

     “Now what am I supposed to do?”

     “Wash them?” Sam offered – rather unhelpfully.

     You lifted your head and glowered in his direction. “I know that, but all my clothes will be wet! What am I supposed to sleep in tonight?”

     You saw a smirk spread across Dean’s face. “Well -”

     “Don’t!” You sat up and pointed an accusatory finger at the eldest Winchester. “Don’t you dare say I can sleep naked.”

     A guilty look replaced his smirk.

     Dean threw your sticky shirt on the table beside him and went to find his bag, rifling around inside until he pulled out a surprisingly well-folded plaid button up. “Here.” He handed you the shirt from across the bed. You sat up and stared at his extended hand with suspicion.

     “Really?”

      “Yes, come on. It’s clean, none of your stuff is, and what you were wearing last night wasn’t warm enough anyway. You were shivering so much it was like a mini earthquake in the bed.”

     Dean threw the shirt into your lap and you mumbled your gratitude, surprise preventing you from forming a coherent thought.

     Then the next think you knew you were bent over the bathroom sink, attempting to wash the last of your stained clothes, the lip of the bathtub and shower rod already hanging with what you’d cleaned so far and the only dry shirts you had folded neatly on the counter. Two shirts.

     One restricting and uncomfortable, only bought to be worn when necessary and never for more than a few hours. And one soft and loose fitting, perfect for sleeping and heavy enough to keep you warm in the freezing motel room with a broken heater and potentially non-existent insulation.

     One belonging to you and carrying no risk of intensifying your feelings for a certain green-eyed, short-haired hunter. And one borrowed and holding the potential to do all of that.

     You reached for Dean’s plaid and pulled it over your head.

     Once you’d finished getting ready for bed and taking care of the soda incident you walked back into the main room to find Dean already under the covers, something on his phone drawing his attention. You walked towards him cautiously, pulling your shirt down with every step in a futile attempt to cover your exposed legs. Dean looked up and his eyes caught on your bare skin. You’d never felt more nervous in your life.

     “Uh – here. Just uh – just climb in.” Dean held up the blankets as he stuttered his greeting, motioning for you to join him in the bed. A timid smile. “You must be cold.”

     “Kinda,” you whispered.

     You crawled under the covers and settled near the edge of the mattress, facing away from Dean and pulling the collar of his shirt up to your face for warmth - or maybe because it smelt like him. But that wasn’t important, as long as you didn’t repeat your mistakes from last night.

     “You know Y/N, he doesn’t bite,” Sam said from across the room, just about to get into bed himself. “You look like you’re gonna fall right off.”

     You did your best to conjure up a laugh, moving just the slightest bit closer to Dean so you didn’t look quite so absurd. Thankfully Sam was asleep shortly after and didn’t press the matter further.

     And then the shivering started again.

     You tucked yourself into a ball, trying to retain as much body heat as possible without stealing any from anyone else. You kept your fisted hand close to your mouth in an attempt to stop your teeth from chattering and somehow managed to get your ice-cold feet under your body.

     “Y/N, this is ridiculous.”

     You halted your desperate maneuvering and turned your head towards Dean.

     “What?”

     “You’re freezing, I can literally feel you shaking. Just come here, let me warm you up.”

     You shook your head in a silent attempt to dissuade him but you knew if he came closer, if he reached out for you, you would do whatever he wanted. So when his hand found your shoulder and he turned you to face him, when your eyes locked on his bright green ones even in the dark of the night, you let him pull you against his chest.

     His chest.

     Last night at least he was behind you, at least you could pretend the band around your waist was a pillow or a blanket if you closed your eyes and concentrated, but now? Now your cheek was pressed against his muscled chest, both of his strong arms holding you close, his shirt rubbing against your skin and his smell all around you. You were lost. Lost in the feeling of him, in your feelings for him, and you didn’t think you would ever find you way back out again.

      The next morning when you woke up, still wrapped in Dean’s arms and both the boys fast asleep, you knew you should move, knew you should get away from Dean as quickly as possible and put all thoughts of last night – of the last two nights – out of your mind. But in the early morning quiet, the chill of winter fading away with every second you spent cloaked in Dean’s warmth, you made no move to get up.

     Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all?

Two Keys - Warmth Series Part Three

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@crapythings @destiel-sandwich  @spn-fan-girl-173 @chelsea072498 @bea789 @cass-t-el @myownlittlebookishworld @maj430 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @spirallingdownfandoms @ruprecht0420 @aebirdie @jpadjackles @dpqssmdd @summer-binging-spn @skymoonandstardust @tom-is-in-my-tardis @plaidstiel-wormstache @helvonasche @gizmospacerocket @skatergirl98me @steampunkd16 @brianaistre @sammied23 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @something-random @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @impalaimagining @millaraysuyai @hamartiamacguffin @fabulouslyboredeveryday @27bmm @quiddy-writes @mogaruke @a-broken-hunter @itsummertime22 @notnaturalanahi @creatively-charlie @notallwhowanderarelost21 @winchesterswantmypie @donnaintx @buckysmetallicstump @mizzezm

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Warmth Series:

@feelmyroarrrr @betterlattethennever @mogaruke @a-broken-hunter @itsummertime22 @staraustria @ruprecht0420 @jamiemelyn @spectaculicious @audiblesmirks @walkerbex98 @donnaintx @mizzezm @ellen-reincarnated1967  @yunngarab

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[personal-palace-under-a-penname]

I want to do this privately.

Somewhere untainted by my failures and my mistakes as a friend. I want to try to paint this picture with as clean a slate as possible.

I want to apologize, with sincerity, for a lot of things. I mostly want to apologize for holding back. You were right about so many things. I was defensive because I didn't want to acknowledge the truth. I projected my pain onto you, assigned you feelings and thoughts I didn't want to feel as my own. I pushed expectations onto you that were not only unfair, but unreasonable. I felt ousted and hurt by you and I didn't want to tell you why. I was afraid you would leave me alone and replace me and I didn't want to tell you why. I was scared I was losing everything around me that made any semblance of sense and so I tried to cut it all off from me quickly in order to protect myself, and it has only caused more pain and suffering to everyone around me.

I was exhausted. I was fighting mental battles every day, justifying the way I was being treated when no one was looking. I was shutting down for almost all of the last two years because of things going on that I should've spoken up about. I got scared of another man being in our home, one I didn't know, who had the power to hurt you and me like I was already being hurt regularly. I don't trust easily, and I felt like you didn't want to include me in that part of your life. That hurt me because I didn't understand why you wouldn't want to include me in every aspect of your life, because I wanted to include you in every aspect of mine. I felt rejected and afraid, and that was amplified by the things I was dealing with alone. I felt like you were hiding from me, ignoring me, and tossing me aside because you no longer needed me. As though you got what you wanted from me and were ready to move on without me. Your behavior at the time triggered this weird, tumultuous flight response, and I didn't know how to handle all of the emotions I got caught up in because it had been so long since I had felt something so incomprehensible.

You were my very best friend and someone I thought I knew intricately, almost mind-readingly. I made a lot of assumptions, irrationally, and jumped to a lot of conclusions. Because of my mental acrobatics, and the emotional turmoil I was dealing with, I shut down in response to things you said and did. I wrote it off as being villainized because that's how I felt. I was trying to defend myself, trying to curl into a ball and deflect the pain and shield myself. I came across more like a cornered, feral dog. I am sorry for that. I am sorry for snapping and snarling and hiding. I should have been honest with you from the get go and I wasn't. I was embarrassed and ashamed and I wanted nothing more than to fall off the face of the earth for getting myself sucked into another abusive relationship. It felt as though I were trapped and you were leaving me behind, even though you had no way of knowing what I was going through because I was not being as communicative as I tried to convince everyone I was being.

For the last two years, I was being coerced and manipulated for money and for sex. I woke up to unwanted advances in my own bed, was afraid to come home to see the person doing these things to me but was too ashamed to try to get out of the situation I had gotten myself into. When I tried to confront the issue, I was treated like I was silly and only dreaming or making up what I asked about. He told me he didn't remember or had no idea what I was talking about. I tried to signal my discomfort in ways I knew how, but without ever being forthcoming. I was foolish and naive to think it was my fault, and to feel like I was "on the hook" for changing him. I should have opened up immediately and ousted him from our home. We could have found another roommate. We could have done a million things, I could have done a million things, differently. I thought I saw a lot of sculptable good in him and I felt like I owed him help in changing, and that was my biggest mistake.

Even if we cannot be friends again, I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can forgive me for lying to you, for not telling the whole truth, for projecting, for lashing out at you when the person causing my pain wasn't ever really you, for everything. I love you so much and I am just so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing protecting everyone from the truth because I foolishly, erroneously believed I could fix it all by myself.

I'm sorry for coping by rescuing a hundred million fucking animals and for yelling and for being lazy and for shutting down, I'm sorry for it all. I was trying too hard to juggle so much, and I thought I had to do it alone. I should have relied on you more, not less. I'm sorry I felt like a burden and tried to shift the weight off of you, as it only came back in worse and more accusatory ways. I wanted to help everyone around me. I wanted everyone to be happy. I felt like the source of all unhappiness.

I'm sorry I tried to run away, and I'm sorry for trying to ruin your relationship by being a huge asshole. I got so scared of you being hurt like I was that I started panicking. I wanted you to pick me over anyone else because I would have done that for you, and it was not okay. In fact, it was really abusive and manipulative of me to try to give you an ultimatum. I am trying really hard to rectify that aspect of myself in therapy, but it needed to be experienced while I'm in therapy to be able to fully examine it so I'm grateful that at least one positive thing will come from all of that venomous experience. My only defense in it at all is that, to me, it felt as though an ultimatum was already in place and you were leaning the opposite way. I was stubbornly stomping my foot, vying for your attention like a neglected child. Very literally like a neglected child, because I subconsciously expected my childhood trauma to be rectified in my "found family," which you were. I am still seeking out the love I didn't receive in childhood, I am still searching for a sense of family, and it comes with a lot of pain, stipulations, and conditions that simply shouldn't be there.

I am sorry for placing all of this pressure on you. It wasn't right. I don't love in halves, I don't always know how to hold back the things that should be held back, and I promise I am working on it every day. Someday I'm going to be a really tremendous friend and it will in part have been thanks to you for loving through this lesser version of myself.

Thank you for reading this, and for taking the time to indulge me once again after all of the bullshit I've put you through. I want your forgiveness, but understand if both your forgiveness and friendship are not offered to me. It is your decision to make. Thank you for having been my friend for the last seven years of this rollercoaster of life. The memories mean the world to me.